Drama Llamas and First World Problems
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: After discovering that Kurt and Blaine had a big fight, and that his name came up, Sebastian makes a play for Blaine, which not only backfires, but forces him to accept a ride home from the last person he'd ever want one from. Not Blaine or Klaine friendly. Enemies to sort of friends AU. Kurtbastian. Kurt H. Sebastian S.


**A/N: Written for the Hummel Holidays prompt 'drink', and inspired solely by my own thoughts of Kurt owning and driving a Harley without him being pigeonholed into the 'skank' persona that normally goes with it.**

 **Takes place some time during the Whitney Houston episode, after Blaine sings to Kurt. Not Blaine or Klaine friendly. Warning for angst and underage drinking. Enemies to sort of friends.**

Sebastian has to admit, he did it to himself.

Even though Kurt and Blaine were attending McKinley, hosing down the hallways with their rainbow flags and Broadway medleys, and Sebastian was happily established in his position of power at Dalton, he'd heard about the lovebird's epic fight, which had apparently resulted in some sort of shaming serenade on Blaine's part.

Oh, the wonders of social media.

Unfortunately, none of the New Direction-ers had had the wherewithal to catch it on video and upload it to their obnoxious YouTube channel the way they did every other sappy, disgusting serenade that took place in their choir room (gym, quad, home ec classrooms), so Sebastian didn't get the chance to see it in all of its awkward and uncomfortable glory.

Not that that meant Sebastian was on Blaine's side necessarily. Since Blaine had made the choice to stay with Kurt over straying with him, the shine on Blaine Anderson had kind of worn off, and Sebastian wasn't the kind of guy to travel two hours out of his way to _court_ anyone. He didn't know all the gritty details, and he didn't actually care. He probably would have just glossed over it entirely, but according to the comment thread (that he'd stumbled upon while doing a search of his own name), Sebastian had come up during one of their fights, and _that_ intrigued him. He wasn't sure if that fight had turned into a breakup, but it seemed from Blaine's constant maudlin Facebook posting that, if it hadn't, one small thing might push them over the edge.

 _That_ sounded like fun, like the kind of thing Sebastian would be willing to drive two hours out of his way to get in the middle of. In the end, he didn't have to. The Warbler council threw together a sort of reunion at a 16-and-over night club halfway between Lima and Westerville. Both Kurt and Blaine agreed to attend, so Sebastian made it a point to go, too.

The party started on the underage side of the night club, but when the bouncer took his five minute break, it was fairly simple for the older Warblers to merge over to the twenty-one and over side, and a few fake IDs ensured that everyone got drinks.

Once they were away from the freshmen and sophomores fawning over the great Warbler legend Blaine Anderson, Sebastian made a play for him. Sebastian didn't even bother acting coy. He bought Blaine a few beers, sat him down at the bar, pulled a _long-time-no-see,_ then asked Blaine what he would have to do _personally_ to get him back at Dalton. Blaine humored him with small talk for a while, but it wasn't too long before a tipsy Blaine stumbled watery-eyed out on to the dance floor in an attempt to monopolize his boyfriend's(?) attention.

And as Sebastian watched the drama unfold, he drank the rest of Blaine's beers.

Then he ordered some more.

By the end of the night, it didn't seem like too much had been resolved between Kurt and Blaine. A swaying Blaine, practically tripping over his own feet, was led out by an apologetic Wes, leaving Kurt to enjoy some time hanging out with old friends without the burden of babysitting weepy Blaine.

Sebastian, on the other hand, had been relatively ignored.

And now, he can barely walk.

Beer doesn't usually make Sebastian sleepy, but rum-and-cokes hella do, and he'd had about four of those. He'd started nodding off at the bar, then moved to an empty booth out of the way. When a loud, rattling knock shakes the table above his head, he's lying full out on the sticky vinyl bench, three inches of dried spilled drinks and a film of ineffectual disinfectant spray keeping him from sliding completely to the floor.

"So, you want a ride, or are you going to sleep here in the booth?"

Sebastian sits up slowly, blinking blurry eyes, smacking his forehead on the edge of the table as he negotiates the lip. When he's finally sitting upright, his head spinning, trying to force itself off his neck, he sees Kurt's mildly amused face. Without moving his head any more than he has to, he peeks left and right, curious to see if someone else is sitting at the booth with him. But no, it's just him. Him and Kurt.

"I thought _I_ was the drunk one," Sebastian mumbles. "Do you even _know_ who you're talking to?"

"Yeah, I know." Kurt rolls his eyes. "Do you want the ride or not?"

"I…I don't understand," Sebastian says.

"Okay. Let me try to explain it to you." Kurt leans a bit closer, but backs away an inch when he smells the stale alcohol on Sebastian's breath. "Do…you…want…a…ride…back…to…Dalton?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Sebastian says, waving Kurt away before he yells at him again. "I'm not stupid."

Kurt decides to be a gentleman and let that opening pass him by.

"What I don't understand is _why_?" Sebastian explains. "I mean, I was trying to hook up with Blainers, like, all night long."

"Yeah" – Kurt laughs – "I saw. It was kind of obvious, with just a hint of pathetic."

Kurt's second laugh hits Sebastian square in the pride.

"Yeah, well, so, why the offer?"

"You bought him all those beers that made him drunk enough to leave before he started singing at me again, so maybe I feel I owe you."

Sebastian gives Kurt an unimpressed look, and Kurt shrugs.

"Because…I don't know," Kurt says. "Maybe I kinda don't want to hear that you were mugged in the alley, or beaten and left for dead somewhere."

"Yeah, right." Sebastian comes close to admitting that he's done worse than pass out in a booth at a bar, but he wants to see where this is headed. Maybe his night isn't over after all. "Oh, please don't say it's because you secretly like me or something. This isn't some kind of ploy to get me alone, is it? Trap me in your basement and use me as your sex slave?"

"No," Kurt replies. "It's because I'm human."

"Human, huh?" Sebastian starts to stand, plans on making some snarky remark about how he'd rather ride a chainsaw than in a car alone with Kurt, but he stumbles and falls backward, almost toppling to the floor and cracking his head again. As he flails his arms to grab the table, Kurt reaches out, taking his elbow to keep him steady, and Sebastian realizes something.

He's tired.

He's tired, and he's in no mood to sit here alone, waiting to get hit on, or trying to sober up enough to call for a ride.

"Yeah," Sebastian says, yanking his arm out of Kurt's grasp. "Yeah, I think I'll take you up on that ride."

"Good," Kurt says. "You're going to need this though." Kurt lifts the one hand Sebastian hadn't been focused on, and holds out a helmet. To Sebastian's fuzzy vision, it looks suspiciously like a motorcycle helmet.

"You're kidding me, right?" Sebastian chuckles. "Is this some sort of a joke? Or some kind of kinky fashion statement, because I'm fine walking."

Kurt shakes his head. "Nope."

Sebastian takes a better look at Kurt's ensemble – tight black jeans, designer pinstriped vest, a tailored shirt that's probably Alexander McQueen, all in slight contrast to a leather biker jacket and boots that Sebastian always assumed Kurt wore for show.

It doesn't exactly fit the Kurt Hummel persona that Sebastian knows, but on the other hand, it kind of suits him.

"I thought you drove a soccer mom car or something."

"Not tonight I don't," Kurt replies.

"But _you_? On a motorcycle?" Sebastian smirks. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"See, you don't know everything about me." Kurt winks, actually motherfucking winks, and Sebastian doesn't know why, but it's hotter than it should be. "So, are you coming or not, Smythe?"

Sebastian reaches out a hand for the helmet, but doesn't immediately take it.

"That depends," he says, raising a brow, "are we talking more like a scooter, or more like a Suzuki?"

Kurt scoffs at both options. "Try a Harley."

"I'm impressed, Hummel." Sebastian takes the helmet, and Kurt takes Sebastian's arm, helping him to his feet. "But what if I fall off?"

"It's got a sidecar."

Sebastian makes a face, and Kurt laughs, surprising them both.

"It's actually a lot cooler than you think," Kurt promises.

"Alrighty, then," Sebastian says. "I'll take your word for it. Let's go."

"I have to warn you," Kurt says, letting Sebastian lean on him as they limp towards the door, "if you vomit in my sidecar, not only are you paying to have it cleaned, I'm taking a picture and uploading it to the Warbler Facebook page."

Sebastian considers that remark, considers the implications of Kurt uploading a picture of him sitting in Kurt's sidecar to a page where every Warbler will see it…including Blaine. He hates throwing up, though he's done it plenty, and Kurt's sidecar will cost a couple thou to clean, at minimum, but it might be worth it to see Blaine's reaction.

"Fair enough," Sebastian says, and lets Kurt lead him out, thinking about what he'd have to do to make that happen.


End file.
